


Farewell

by MorteMistrata



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M, Voltron NSFW Week 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2017-08-29
Packaged: 2018-12-21 13:10:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11944920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorteMistrata/pseuds/MorteMistrata
Summary: Lance says a final farewell to his ex, Shiro. For the prompt: Secrets





	Farewell

As soon as the door slides shut behind him, and the bright light from the hallway disappears, Shiro slumps against the wall, as if the only thing keeping him upright was the possibility that someone might see him fall on the hall security cameras the following day. Lance is still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, and the quietness and dim lighting of his room are threatening to pull him back into the clutches of sleep.

“So what’s got you running to my room at,” He glances over at the clock on his bedside, which displays both Altean time and Earth time, courtesy of Pidge. “At 3 a.m.? Are you having nightmares again?”

Shiro shakes his head.

Good. It’d be awkward trying to help him with that now, especially since Keith’s been handling all of his PTSD symptoms ever since the two of them broke up.

“Then what? Cause if you’re just here to discuss beauty products or something, I’d really rather postpone-”

“I shouldn’t have left you.” Shiro says, his voice quiet and small. His gaze is focused on the lion slippers by the foot of his bed, as if he’s talking to them instead of Lance.

Lance knows Shiro well enough to know his nervous tics, and it’s as plain as day by the way he refuses to look up, and the lack of volume in his voice that he is. From Lance’s standpoint, this isn’t new news. They hadn’t broken up because of a lack of passion on either side, or because of a fight, or because it was better for Voltron. It was simply because from a logistical standpoint, Keith was the better choice, as always.

“Well, you did.” Lance replies stupidly. What else is he supposed to say? If there was ever a chance of them getting back together, that would’ve been in the first two weeks after, when Keith kept asking the two of them if they still had feelings for each other (they did), and if they’d prefer to pretend that this whole break-up for PR thing never happened before he caught feelings for Shiro too (Lance did).

Shiro sighs, long and heavy, like he’s got the world sitting on his shoulders. “I made a mistake, Lance. You know how hard it is for me to admit something like that.”

And Lance does. They’d only ever fought a couple of times, and each time, Lance would admit to his mistakes before Shiro did. He hated the wait more than anything, and really hated having to pretend he was the bad guy, even when he wasn’t, but he’d learned quickly that Shiro was never the kind of guy to admit his wrongs first; he was sure of himself, confident, because that was what being the pilot for the black lion entailed.

“If I recall correctly,” Lance says, and he knows he does. “You told me that our relationship was a mistake. Keith was supposed to be better for you, better for our cause.” He says the last word like a sneeze.

Shiro crosses his arms, his dull nails digging into his bicep above his prosthetic. “None of that has changed, I just-”

“You just what?” Lance takes a few angry steps towards him, his gaze unflinching and unrelenting. If he’s not here to apologize, or take back his words, then why is he here? Why couldn’t this wait for the light of day, when Lance can actually think clearly? “What’s the point in giving me false hope when you know that I’ve just gotten over you?”

Shiro snorts darkly, and shakes his head. “We both know that’s a lie. Do you think that just because we stopped doing the mind melds together, the bond is gone? It’s not. I’ve gotten glimpses. I’ve seen things. And you are not over me.”

Lance’s face flushes at being called out. He’d thought it wasn’t so obvious. He’d assumed that he’d hid it well. Obviously, he was wrong. “Whatever. Get to the point or get out. I’ve got Z’s to catch.”

Shiro sighs again and kneels in front of him. He raises his hands together like he’s praying, and although his mouth is skewed into a frown, his eyes show his sincerity. “I’m begging you, Lance. I’m literally on my knees right now.”

“I see that.” Lance says humorlessly. “But what are you begging for?”

“One more night.” He says. “It’s all fucked up now and it’s all my fault. All I want. All I need is one more night, with you.”

“One more night.” Lance echoes. Shiro’s never begged him for anything, although it’s true that he’s never had to. Anything he wanted, Lance would freely give. It’s strange seeing Shiro on his knees. It’s stranger still what he’s asking. “You want to have sex with me one more time.”

“Yes.” Shiro confirms, still on his knees in front of him.

Lance taps his thigh. “But that would be cheating. My mother didn’t raise a cheater.” His voice is uncertain. She hadn’t raised a queer son either, but here he was.

“Is it really cheating if it’s just one time? It’s really like a farewell. We never got one last time before, did we?” Shiro offers, as if his excuses will erase Lance’s moral objections.

But really, they hadn’t had a chance to say goodbye. Lance and Pidge had been off on a mission together, and Shiro and Keith had been off doing some sort of meeting with the Blade of Marmora, and when they’d all returned to the castle, Keith and Shiro had been holding hands, and suddenly they were over.

Most couples at least got to have a final fuck, knowing that they were gonna be over soon, or at the very least, had one to look back on fondly. It was only supposed to be once. One time can be apologized for. One time can be forgotten. One time can be easily hidden, brushed under the rug like any old secret.

Lance relents.

Shiro knows it too. He can read Lance just as easily as Lance can read him, can tell by the way his shoulders slump, and his tapping halts mid-beat, that Lance has given in.

“Fine.” Lance says as he walks by him, locking both of the locks on his door, and stuffing a towel against the crack under the door. “One last time. No more after this, no matter what you say. Not even if you break up with Keith. Deal?”

Shiro stands, and grins, as if he’d known Lance would give in from the beginning. Maybe he did. “Okay. Okay. Yes.” He unzips his vest and tugs it off, dropping it beside him. “Am I allowed to kiss you?”

“Yes.” Lance breathes as he crosses the short distance between. His hands reach up for his hair automatically, tugs him down until their kisses meet messily. It’s strange how easy it is to let himself fall back into old habits, how easily it is to let himself melt into the grasp of the man who’s hurt him so much. “We can pretend, can’t we? That we don’t know that this is it?”

“Of course we can, Lan-” Lance interrupts him with another kiss that trails from mouth to neck to mouth again without once breaking stride. “Eager, aren’t we?”

“You’re the one who came knocking in the middle of the night.” He points out as he shrugs his housecoat away. He tries to pull off his shirt without pulling away, but hits Shiro as he tugs it over his head. He gets tangled, and Shiro steps back with a chuckle as he helps remove it.

“Mid-morning actually.” He corrects. The shirt falls to the ground, slightly ripped in the collar from their excessive efforts. “But your point stands.”

They come together again, backing up towards the bed. Lance is rutting against him already, biting back the moans that threaten to escape from his throat. When Lance falls onto his back, nearly crushing his headphones laying beside him, he has such a disappointed look on his face that Shiro actually laughs. He brushes them aside as Shiro presses a kiss to his puffy nipple, and encloses it in his mouth. Lance tries to stifle his moans, and whimpers and tiny, embarrassing sex noises, but they’ve played this game before, and Shiro refuses to pull away until a moan befit for a porno escapes Lance’s mouth.

He pulls away grinning, and drops down beside him, making the bed shake. “I could smell the lube when I came in, so I’m assuming you’re already nice and stretched out for me, aren’t you?”

Lance looks away, embarrassed. He’d done his best to get rid of the smell, but after spilling half of the tube in the sheets, there wasn’t really much he could do. “Maybe.”

Shiro turns his face with a single finger, and kisses him again. Lance can taste his strawberry toothpaste on his tongue, and a hint of something harsher, like alcohol. It could be mouthwash, he tries to convince himself, it could be something that innocuous. Lance pulls away and wipes the spit away from his mouth.

“Are you drunk?” He asks quietly. If this was all some drunken mistake, wouldn’t that mean that Lance had taken advantage of Shiro? Won’t he see it that way when he wakes up the next morning, the taste of regret lingering in his morning breath?

“‘M buzzed.” Shiro replies, pushing Lance against the bed. He tugs his boxers down with clumsy fingers. “I know what I’m doing, don’t worry.”

So Lance tries not to. Shiro strokes a finger against his puckered hole and then plunges three fingers in, curling them so that he hits his prostate with every thrust. Shiro’s done this so many times, has mapped out every inch of Lance’s body with photographic accuracy, that he knows just how to shut him up without saying anything at all. His back arches up with each thrust, leaving an infinity between his back and the bed underneath.

Again and again, he hits it. Alternating between kissing him, tweaking his nipples and making hickies on his lower neck, where his jacket’s hood will hide it come morning, he drags Lance closer and closer to coming. Lance doesn’t do much more than arch and gasp and cry out in strangled little noises, but Shiro whispers praises in his ear nonetheless.

“Good boy.” He says as Lance’s nails dig into his back, and that’s all Lance needs to come, making a mess of Shiro’s black shirt. “So good for me.” Shiro sits up and shifts to sit beside him as he recovers. He’s grinning, like he’s accomplished something great. Like he isn’t cheating on his boyfriend.

Lance sits up as soon as he’s able and tugs Shiro’s shirt away. “I can be a bad boy too.” He says, somehow managing a straight face, even though he feels like an actor in one of those shitty pornos he’s got downloaded on his phone. He pushes against Shiro’s chest, and he falls back with a surprised little ‘oof’, as if Lance really has the strength to knock him down on his own. “How ‘bout you just enjoy the rest of the ride?”

Shiro tries not to laugh at his horribly cliche delivery, and fails horribly. His laughter rocks his entire body, and Lance too as he unzips his pants and pulls him free with shaking fingers. Are they shaking because he’s excited? Or because beneath all of that, he feels guilt at doing this with Keith just one room over? He lowers himself onto Shiro carefully, unneededly so, as he’s already stretched out and gaping. As he bottoms out, he places his hands on Shiro’s hips, and they stop shaking. He grinds, lifts, rises and falls, finding a steady rhythm in the pace of Shiro’s breaths and grunts. The cresting waves rise higher inside of him as Shiro puts his hands on his waist, bucking up to press even deeper inside of him every time that Lance falls.

Shiro comes first, pulling Lance down against him with enough force to leave indents in his skin when he releases his grip. That final thrust pushes him over the edge, and he comes, loud and vibrant in the stillness of the room. The waves of pleasure washes over him like an eighteen-wheeler, and by the time they recede, the lights are starting to brighten in his room, simulating the rising sun.

Lance lifts himself off of Shiro stiffly and rolls onto the bed beside him, his legs dangling off of the side. “Could I get you a coffee before you go?”

Shiro laughs, but it dies out quickly. With a sigh, he lifts himself off of the bed, and picks his pants up off of the floor. “Thank you, Lance.”

“Your shirt’s over there.” Lance says, pointing. He doesn’t want to confront what this actually is. If he treats it like a joke, pretends that he’s not going to be looking at Keith with distaste and annoyance for the rest of the week, then maybe it won’t hurt so bad when Shiro leaves. “Have fun on your walk of shame.”

Shiro rolls his eyes. He knows what Lance is doing just as much as he does. “It doesn’t count if no one sees.”

He presses a simple kiss to Lance’s forehead before he leaves, and then he’s gone, leaving Lance in a room that reeks of sex, and with a heavy stone of guilt resting in the bottom of his stomach. He cheated with Shiro. Shiro cheated on Keith. Shiro started it. It was just a goodbye.

These facts, which he’d hoped would comfort him, do nothing but make him feel like a homewrecker. The worst part is, now he can’t even deny that he’s still in love with Shiro. If Keith decides to ask again, he’ll see it in his eyes and the line of his mouth, that yes, he does still love him, and that yes, he does envy him the relationship that was stolen from him.

With a sigh, he rips the sheets off of his bed and throws them into the hamper. He’d known that Shiro wouldn’t stay and fall asleep with him after this, but it still hurts, knowing that he’s gonna be alone once more. Somehow, it seems even worse than before; it’s almost like he’s been broken up with twice.


End file.
